


Double Agent

by Hekate1308



Series: The Crowley Chronicles [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: If there is one thing worse than his mother, it is being beholden to his mother. But he’s here, he’s back, same old demon, same old Armani suit, with no one but his mother to thank for it. Please read the author's note.





	Double Agent

**Author's Note:**

> I do not feel comfortable with how several aspects of this season are written. I especially consider the difference between Cas being seemingly mind-controlled in season 12 and it being ignored now. This story deals with this. If you don't like the idea, please just click away. That's all I ask.

If there is one thing worse than his mother, it is being beholden to his mother. He learned that the hard way.

He meant what he said on that last day of his life; he always expected to be the one to kill her himself; and if there, maybe, perhaps, was some grief too, he ignored it.

Not that there was much time to analyze his feelings, anyway. He had to close the portal so the boys could get away.

Maybe it was even with some sense of relief that he finally ended it all. He’d been fighting for his place in the world for a long time, the demons hated him for simply trying to keep Hell running, humans and angels alike abhorred him, and the boys –

Dean punched him in the face, so he’d hardly miss him. Not that he thought especially of Dean, he tried to convince himself even as he turned around one last time in the big waste land to glance at him.

And now he’s here, he’s back, same old demon, same old Armani suit, with no one but his mother to thank for it.

“Fergus” she says, an emotion in her voice he can’t immediately place.

Her eyes glow with power, and he unconsciously takes a few steps back. What fool gave her the means to –

“Don’t be afraid”.

What?

Dids he lose her marbles while he was gone?

Suddenly, her hands are cradling his face, but there is no falsehood ion the gesture anymore, as it was when she first returned; no, her eyes have stopped glowing and actually look slightly wet as she continues, “My wee sausage. My hero. I brought you back.”

She definitely lost her marbles.

“Mother –“

Her hands drop from his face. “We have to talk. It’s about the Winchesters.”

Then again, maybe she’s still sane.

* * *

 

“They want to reopen the portal to save their mother” he repeats dumbly.

As little as it matters, he was hoping that his sacrifice would at least mean _something_. After the... camaraderie he and Dean shared ever since – what Sam called their “Summer of Love” with more truth to it than he was aware of.

She nods. “That in itself doesn’t surprise me, but they are ready to take such risks – and normally, they’d be a wee bit more worried about certain things...”

“Like Lucifer or Michael coming through and destroying this world too.”

“Exactly. I am glad to see death hasn’t turned your brains to mush.”

Crowley shakes his head. “And you are sure they allowed Cas to –“

“Fry Donatello’s brain? Of course. I keep tabs on them. From a distance.”

He nods. Of course she would, especially if Sam gave her the spell to gather enough power to fry earth, if she wishes.

Crowley will have to be especially careful around her, now.

Or at least he would think so if he’d simply returned to the status quo, with them being locked in a stalemate as to who’ll try to kill who next.

But instead, she’s been – no, he can’t even say _suspiciously pleasant_ since he came to two days ago. The house she’s built for herself  is comfortable, he has his own room with his favourite Craig on the shelf and she’s even devised a spell that allows for him to come and go as he pleases but makes the premises impenetrable to other demons.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she actually _missed_ him.

He’ll get used to it. First things first, however. They have to sort out the boys. What if another world-ending crisis occurs and the Winchesters aren’t there to stop it?

“It will be best if I come go and see them” he decides. “They’ll hardly be surprised, I imagine; their acquaintances have made a habit of being resurrected.”

And he has a right to visit them now. After all, he belongs in the inclusive club of “people who have died for Sam and Dean Winchester”, albeit temporarily.

As always, he doesn’t dwell on the fact that his particular sacrifice was inspired decidedly more by one brother’s existence than the others.

* * *

 

It feels like it has been forever since he last crossed the bunker’s threshold, even though it has only been a few months since he stabbed himself in the gut.

No one reacts to his knocks. Strange in itself; Dean is always careful who they let in the bunker.

He shrugs and teleports in.

The boys are in the war room, Cas is reading, Sam is doing research on his laptop, and Dean is cleaning his gun.

“Hello, boys.”

The reactions he gets are shocking.

Mostly because there is no shock at all.

Say what you want about the last time, but at least Dean did something when he saw him. Granted, it rather hurt his pride (and other feelings he doesn’t want to think about) but still.

This time, Dean looks up, nods, says “You’re back, great, you can help us” and goes back to cleaning his gun.

And it’s still more than he gets from Sam and Cas, who barely register he’s even come back from the dead; he might as well have returned from a short shopping trip, for all they care.

This is not going to be fun at all.

* * *

 

When he’s not at his mother’s house to analyze the data he’s gathered and trying to find a solution for whatever happy drug the son of Satan seems to permanently have pumped into Team Free Will’s bloodstream, Crowley is busy holding his tongue whenever he talks about the state of affairs with the boys.

When Sam talks about how Jack wasn’t born evil, he just has the misfortune of possessing powers he couldn’t control.

_So that’s what he gave you. A mini-me to fawn over._

When Dean admits “the kid” isn’t so bad, all things considered.

 _And yet he wouldn’t resurrect his mother after he made her keep him, but he could reach Cas in the Empty just fine. And you ignored that because you needed a win. Also, you said he’s fully sentient, so I think it is rather strange to call him_ the kid.

And, perhaps creepiest of all, Cas, who constantly mentions Jack and his love of movies and how much he is like his mother.

_The one who didn’t want him until he made her do so? That woman? Or the happy-go-lucky I’ll-accept-death-because-vision-caricature you spent your time with?_

He doesn’t say any of this. It wouldn’t be of any use.

For what it’s worth – Crowley himself doesn’t think Satan Junior did this to them on purpose. No, he instinctively did what his Father always does when he needs people on his side: showed them what they wanted to see and convinced them that nothing else mattered.

The problem is, those three can make anything happen if they put their mind to it, and right now, all they care about is opening the portal.

Sometimes, when he thinks about it, and he tries not to, he believes Dean’s transformation is the one that hurts the most. Not just because of – certain – emotions, but because there is an emptiness behind the old Winchester’s eyes now.

As if he simply doesn’t care.

About anything but dragging his mother and the son of Lucifer out of there, earth be damned.

Crowley almost can’t stand it. Almost. He’s still a demon after all.

* * *

 

After another few weeks, he decides that Dean’s lack of caring is not the worst aspect of this situation.

Not, it’s the fact that they treat him like an attack dog, these days.

Aggressive spirit? Call Crowley to get rid of it.

Research needed? Tell Crowley to come over so he can tell them what he knows about lore.

A spell needs a strange ingredient? Demand Crowley fetch it.

All of this is never accompanied by a “please” or a “thank you”, and as soon as he’s done what he’s supposed to do, the boys turn their backs as if he were any black-eyed demon.

And yet, eventually, there are signs of improvement. When he gets Dean alone – when Dean is on the lookout for some new spell or magical item that will help them with their crazy plan to bust through into the Apocalyptic world or a case is easy enough that he goes on his own – he’s not just there to help, no, he gets invented to come along for a drink or just to keep him company, and for a while, he can see the hunter he knew so well shine through.

It doesn’t happen often, but it is something.

“You are sure that’s still them?” his mother asks one day. “He could have taken their souls inadvertently. It would be complicated but manageable.”

“No, that’s hi- them. I am sure.”

Rowena’s expression tells him that she knows all too well what he was about to say.

He doesn’t care.

* * *

 

One day about six months into his new and yet old existence of double agent, things take a turn for the worse.

For the much, much worse.

There is a way to open the portal. Bad enough.

This spell involves a human sacrifice. Worse.

Cas is advocating to “sacrifice a bad human” for the “greater cause” because “some people cannot be saved.” Worst case scenario.

That Sam and Dean – the later reluctantly, at least, Crowley clings to that, and when did he become the moral centre of the group? – agree.

It’s the oldest Winchester who’s sent out to snatch a victim of the streets.

Crowley knows he cannot let this happen, even if it costs him his own life, and Dean is well capable of taking it if he wishes.

Dean heads to the next town with a large prison. A good enough idea if you are looking for evildoers, Crowley supposes; but still – since when has Dean been alright with human sacrifice?

He stays at his side, invisible, until he goes so far as to actually start stalking a few men here and there. Not determined enough that he seems completely sold on the plan – thank God for small favours, wherever he and Amara are – but still.

Dean has just returned to his dingy motel room from another one of those rambles of his – he has been ion town a week, but it feels longer – when Crowley decides he’s had enough. He didn’t come back from the dead (get resurrected by his mother due to her newfound feelings of guilt, whatever) to play babysitter to a man he... cares for, in his own twisted, evil way, of course.

He makes himself visible.

“Crowley. Excellent. Listen, I am looking for –“

“I know, and I am here to stop you.”

“You what?”

“I cannot allow you to blow a hole between the worlds, Dean, not to save your mother and a single nephilim. The risk is too great –“

The next moment, Dean has him pressed up against the wall, a well-remembered knife at his throat. “You can’t stop me” he hisses. “I won’t allow it.”

“Do it” he taunts him. “Go ahead.”

For a second, he believes Dean will. For a second, he thinks he’ll die again.

And then Dean staggers back, a look of puzzlement on his face. “I – what – I –“

His eyes glow golden, as he said Cas’ did when Jack took him over from the womb, but the colour fades, leaves only the green Crowley knows so well, and suddenly, Dean’s shaking his head.

“God, what was I about to do? Crowley? You’re _back_ from the _dead_ –“

“For a few months now” he drawls. “Glad you noticed.”

Dean stares at him. “You wanted to do the right thing. _Again_.“

“What can I say? Must have been indoctrinated by you –“

And suddenly, Dean is kissing him, as he did that night long ago when they were both demons, and maybe he should stop him, but he has never been good at denying himself, and Dean’s desperation tells him he needs this as much as he himself does.

Later, they lie next to each other, not really touching.

“well” Dean says finally. “That was... unexpected. Not every day you wake up from being mind-controlled and end up in bed with a demon.”

“And here I thought that was part of the course for Winchesters.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, well...” he trails off.” Thank you, Crowley. We almost _invited_ Michael here, Jesus.”

“We’ll work it out” Crowley promises because he’s enver been able to control himself around Dean Winchester as far as he can remember. “You’ll see.”

“Oh” Dean replies carelessly, “We’ve dealt with worse.” He laughs. “Not entirely sure I have lost my mind, but hey, what else is new. Apart from this. Sort of.”

“You’ll get used to it” Crowley says, waiting for his response.

Eventually, into the slowly darkening room, Dean simply answers, “I guess so.”


End file.
